House of Trembling Leaves, The (24 page)

‘‘Watch it! Clumsy!''

‘‘Oh quiet!''

Lu See appeared at Mabel's shoulder. ‘‘What on earth are the two of you bickering about now?''

Peter rolled his bulging eyes, shaking the dirt from his shirt. ‘‘Your genius brother here allowed the ‘Rebirth' stamp series to be overprinted with
Burmese Occupation
all across the face. The Inspector General is furious.''

Lu See tried to suppress a smile. ‘‘James, you nitwit, didn't you check the proofs?''

‘‘Look, I can't be expected to work the new system.''

‘‘And what system is that,'' said Peter, shouldering his brother aside. ‘‘The one that sends letters across the world with postage stamps saying we've suddenly been overrun by the Burmese?''

‘‘You're the one in charge of quality control.''

‘‘But you're meant to check for imperfections.''

‘‘And it's your job to sign it off.''

‘‘As Jehovah is my witness you are the most incompetent person I have ever worked with.''

‘‘To be precise: so are you.''

‘‘Well at least we agree on something.''

‘‘Precisely.''

‘‘But you're still in the wrong.''

James shook his head. ‘‘You are such a
fan-tung
. No wonder Irene Ting refused to marry you.''

Lu See, stooping to tend some wild mint, waved her arms in the air. ‘‘Truce. Truce.''

‘‘Only if James admits he's wrong,'' said Peter.

‘‘You always have to have the last word, don't you?'' shot James.

‘‘I don't.''

‘‘See?''

‘‘See what?''

After a while they threatened to glue each other's mouths shut.

Giggling, Mabel glanced at Lu See and winked. ‘‘You know, Mama,'' she said. ‘‘Sometimes I'm maximum glad I'm an only child.''

‘‘Well, my maximum-glad only child, I have a job for you,'' said Lu See. ‘‘The Japanese used the village church as a stable for their horses. Let's grab some brooms and buckets and clean it up. And when we're finished we're going to go into the jungle and dig up some treasure.''

‘‘What treasure?''

‘‘It's something that belongs to the church. You'll see.''

Several hours later, the church was looking and smelling like its old self. Lu See and Mabel had scraped and scoured and scrubbed away the stink of the horses. They also managed to restore the pipe organ console and pedal board to something like its former glory. Some of the stop knobs had gone missing and there were some hoof dents in the organ case but Lu See couldn't complain.

‘‘There's not too much damage,'' she said, running a damp towel over the top panel.

Mabel stepped in and ran her fingers up and down the keyboard. ‘‘Why is there no sound?''

‘‘For that we'll have to go into the jungle and dig up the treasure.''

 

With a cock of the head, Uncle Big Jowl grinned, toying with an earlobe. He was at the entrance to the church looking in. ‘‘Aahh! You have done wonders.''

‘‘Well, somebody had to do it.''

‘‘When will we collect the pipes? Maybe after the British regain full control?''

‘‘Yes, let's wait until law and order is fully restored. There are still looters about.''

‘‘Your father would be proud of how you've restored not just the church but the house too,'' he said, puffing on his cheroot.

‘‘If he hadn't taken to the bottle and shot himself he could have seen the end product himself.'' She detected only a hint of regret in her own voice.

‘‘Drinking hair tonic. Stupid-stupid, aahh.''

‘‘Ah-Ba was ill by then. He wasn't right in the head. But what do you expect? The Japanese forced him to sell the rubber estate at $50 an acre to the Mitsui Group. Before the war it was worth what, $300 an acre?''

‘‘More like 400 dollah. Aahh, you know my friend, Perak Suan, aahh, he died last week of lung disease. Don't ever smoke, very bad for you, tell your daughter too.''

‘‘Why are you smoking then?''

‘‘This not smoking, this keeps mosquitoes away. My grandfather smoked Sumatran cigars until he was 94.''

‘‘And then he died.''

‘‘No. He switched to using a pipe. Anyway, I never inhale.''

Bemused, Lu See loosened the broken wristwatch on her wrist and gave the skin beneath a rub. She shook her head. ‘‘What were we talking about?''

‘‘Japanese buying rubber estate from your father, aahh,'' he said, cocking his head.

‘‘Yes, and then they seized his Bentley.''

‘‘Which they had the gall-galls to call a gift to the Imperial Nippon Government.'' The big man snorted, rubbed the tip of his head with cigar ash and shook out his shirt. ‘‘Gave him a certificate and called it a gift. Bloody robbers, aahh.''

She remembered her father withdrawing deep into himself. By then they were living in the Chinese-style dwelling by the river. He barricaded himself in the wet kitchen with a revolver and drank. When he finished the whisky he went on to the last of the brandy, and then he turned to the hair tonic and aftershave, and finally to the gun.
Huffed and puffed and blew his brains out.

When she was at her lowest ebb she'd think about this. She'd think about the day she found him with the top of his head blown off.

Lu See puffed her cheeks out. ‘‘You know, near the end, his hands shook so much he couldn't hold his razor steady. I had to shave him myself.''

Uncle Big Jowl placed his thumb and index finger to his throat. ‘‘Damn-fierce tragedy. Life is like this, without head or tail.''

At the mention of her Ah-Ba a curious cold had flooded Lu See's veins. Now she went outside and sat on the church steps. She shut her eyes and pressed her palms to them.

The following day, with the sun filtering through the tamarinds, Lu See and Mabel strolled down the windy road that led to the village. Mabel jumped and skipped behind her mother. ‘‘What are we going to buy from Mr Ko's shop, Mama?''

‘‘We'll have to see what they have, my little warrior. There's still very little we
can
buy. Everyone's short of food supplies, so I thought I would barter these turnips. With school term starting tomorrow, you'll need a new pair of shoes. I don't know if those rubber-tyre slippers will last much longer.''

‘‘Princess shoes? With bows on them?''

‘‘Yes, your majesty,'' Lu See said, walking backwards, bowing and whirling her hand showily as if greeting royalty. ‘‘Bows as big as wings.''

Mabel spread her arms out wide and pretended to fly like a bird. ‘‘Mama, look at me. I'm a crow.
Caw-caw!
''

They could see the toddy shop in the distance and the palms above swaying; a breeze running through the village had brought children out to fly their kites. Lu See shielded her eyes from the sun, blinking as she plunged from light to shade, and peered over her shoulder at Mabel who now hopped to grab at the vines that trailed from the eucalypti, which stood in silent ranks. Then she broke into a run. She came tearing down the road and skidded to a stop. That was when Lu See saw them through the trees, snaking through the leaf litter.

The guerrillas emerged from out of the jungle like ghosts; it was the first time she had ever seen them in broad daylight; they called themselves the Malayan People's Anti-Japanese Army. Otherwise known as the MPAJA. Their uniforms were a mottled khaki and those that wore caps showed three stars on the rim. Leading them was a man in his late sixties with a face like cracked porcelain and lips as thick as sausages. Lu See noticed a young boy by his side with a Japanese service pistol stuffed in his belt; he couldn't have been more than ten.

Someone from the pith wood shop began to clap and cheer, acclaiming them liberators; others, in quieter voices, branded them vigilantes. A dog tied to a coconut tree barked as they approached. The chickens scattered and the village goose honked. Grasping the handle of her turnip basket, Lu See watched the group strut down the main street, heads held high and shoulders thrown back. There were one or two Malays amongst them but the majority of the bedraggled-looking fighters were undoubtedly Chinese.

They barged into the toddy shop. After a short while they reappeared, dragging a man by the heels. His face was already swelling from numerous blows. The villagers gathered in the square. Almost immediately, Lu See recognized the white suit.

‘‘Japanese informer!'' a woman shrieked, baring her teeth. ‘‘He's the one that accused my husband of keeping a wireless radio, saying he listened to Allied broadcasts.''

‘‘He's a Woo!'' someone yelled.

‘‘So what if he is! He knows what's coming to him!''

Kneeling, the man lifted his hands towards the gathering crowd, sobbing like a child, pleading for their help. The onlookers stood paralyzed.

One of the MPAJA soldiers shoved him with his foot.

Lu See stood on her toes, straining to see if it was who she thought it was. The MPAJA soldier struck him in the face. His head twisted. There was a mole on his cheek.

Mabel looked at her mother in alarm. Quick as a shot, with the man's screams ringing in his ears, Lu See took her daughter's hand but Mabel's leg muscles had locked with fright. ‘‘We must go,'' hissed Lu See. ‘‘
Now.
''

The little girl's feet suddenly came alive. ‘‘Yes, Mama.''

‘‘Don't look back, Mabel. Whatever you do don't look back.''

There was a thud of wood on bone as they drove their rifle butts into the man's chest. The snap of ribs reverberated around the village square. Lu See quickened her stride, almost pulling at Mabel to keep pace.

The dog continued to bark.

‘‘What about her!'' someone yelled. ‘‘The one that worked for the Colonel!'' Other voices joined in, surrounding her like a blanket, but the pulsing in Lu See's ears drowned out all sound, all thought. Her instinct was to get away, as fast as possible. Turning past the toddy shop, she dropped the basket of turnips. She and Mabel hurried up the windy road towards the big house, close to sprinting now, feeling as though at any second someone was going to grab them from behind and pull them down.

The sun beat down. But despite the heat from the day Lu See's blood ran cold.

 

That night Mabel fell asleep in her mother's arms. Having kissed her eyes shut, Lu See caressed her daughter's head and then carefully removed Mabel from her bosom. She went to the verandah and stood in the shadow of the moon. Her mother appeared at her shoulder. ‘‘Are you all right? Hungry?''

Curtly: ‘‘I'm fine.''

‘‘You cannot tell lies to me. Your face the same as when you eat bitter marrow.''

‘‘I said I'm fine.'' She folded her arms. ‘‘I'm always fine. I've been fine all my life. Forthright, resilient and fine, that's me.'' She turned her mouth down.

‘‘Don't make that face, Lu See. Your father hates it when you make that face.''

‘‘Ah-Ba's dead, Mother.''

‘‘I know he's dead. What makes you think I don't know he's dead?'' She shook her head.

‘‘You still sleep with his slippers at the foot of your bed.''

Mother ignored that. ‘‘Mabel told me what happened today in town.''

‘‘It was nothing, just a settling of old scores. They got hold of one of the informers.'' Lu See pictured the man the MPAJA soldiers were attacking. It was him, she was certain of it; it was the Black-headed Sheep.

‘‘Nothing?'' Mother shot her a look. ‘‘What do you mean nothing? They killed the man. They strapped his body to the angsana tree by the church and placed a sign over his head. There's talk that he was a Woo as well.''

Lu See covered her mouth. ‘‘So he's finally dead.'' She closed her eyes, wishing she could share the news with Sum Sum.

‘‘I heard you were chased,'' said Mother.

‘‘We weren't chased.'' She rubbed the skin of her forehead. ‘‘I wish Mabel wouldn't make things up.''

‘‘This would not happen if you had husband. Your father, he felt the same every time we discussed you, he got worried sick, saying, ‘She must find a husband before she turn old like dried prune.' ''

Lu See didn't want to get into this – the last time they talked about her widowhood her mother made out she was responsible for her father's depression. All that worrying, she claimed, made his mind bloat up, like a balloon full of heavy water.

‘‘And then you ran away to England and came back with a baby!''

Uncle Big Jowl appeared at the door. ‘‘Baby? Someone pregnant? Not you, Lu See?''

Lu See pinched finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose, dramatically. ‘‘No, I'm not pregnant.''

‘‘So, who?'' Nonplussed, he looked to his sister then to his niece; when neither replied he left the room.

Mother shook her head. She looked at her hands for several moments. ‘‘Shameful, meh, that your father should kill himself like he did.'' She sighed. ‘‘Now I have to wear my grief like an open wound.''

Lu See squeezed the skin between her eyes again. They'd found him barricaded in the wet kitchen with the gun by his side and an arterial spray of red garlanding the wall. His body lay at a grotesque angle and at first Lu See couldn't work out why the top of her father's skull was missing, why his tongue hung on his chin, why there was a sliding mass of blackness over his forehead. That was when she registered the flies. Swarming like a black bubbling crust over the angry raw flesh.

They placed a towel over his face and together she and Mother scrubbed the blood and brain scrapings off the wall, unable to say a word. They looked at one another as if to ask
are you okay?
But they weren't okay. They wouldn't be okay for a long, long time. They rolled a blanket out and helped set him down, stretched out as if asleep. They covered all the mirrors in the house and left him in the main room smelling of camphor and oil-smoke; just sat and watched over him until the city policeman arrived. There was no wake, no fancy funeral. They couldn't even afford chrysanthemums.